Strawberry Fields Forever
by Carpe Diem Baby
Summary: When Dante visits an old town, he knew he'd be taken back to his past. But he had no idea he would encounter and endure a long-lasting, genuine, and innocent romance...with the most unexpected of people. Dante/OC
1. Chapter 1: Memories

Strawberry Fields Forever

**Disclaimer:**Devil May Cry and all canon characters belong to Capcom & the title "Strawberry Fields Forever" belongs to The Beatles—I take no ownership of any of these. I do, however, take ownership of the plot & OCs.

**Author's Note:** This is absolutely, 100% inspired by Leo Tolstoy's _Family Happiness_ and I thought it was necessary to put that out there—everyone go read it now! All jokes aside, this is rated M solely for some cursing (in this chapter only, really) and a lemon, possibly. Still not sure. Anyway, feedback is greatly appreciated. Happy reading!

_Chapter 1 – Memories_

"Dante, are you even listening to me?" Dante could tell Lady was upset just by her voice on the phone. Dante, on the other hand, was too damn tired to give a rat's ass. But hell. He was tired all the time, at least according to Lady. She had a solution though, and she was going to put an end to Dante's seemingly perpetual crabby attitude.

"Damn it Dante!"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I'm here. What were you saying?"

"I said I'm coming over," Lady repeated. "I have a surprise for you."

A surprise? When was the last time someone tried to surprise Dante? Dante didn't have to think about it—no one ever bothered to surprise Dante, or do something nice at all. Knowing Lady she wasn't going to shock Dante with anything pleasant—a free pizza is what he could have gone for. She was probably going to come by with another complaint of him owing her money, even though his debts were long paid off. So when Lady tells Dante she has a "surprise" for him, he wasn't at all excited. He merely sighed over the phone.

"All right." That was all he said before hanging up.

Waiting was never fun for Dante, no matter what he was waiting for. He simply sat before his desk, boot-clad feet propped firmly on the hard, wooden surface before him, hands behind his head. He was feeling a little sleep-deprived, and wondered whether or not he had time to slip in a short nap. He knew he'd taken naps a lot more usually nowadays, but he was always so bored and tired, there was nothing better for him to do. Unless eating counts. Nevertheless, Dante's napping contemplations were interrupted a few moments later when Lady opened the door and approached Dante, sitting comfortably before his desk.

"You're not going to sleep again, are you?" she asked, cocking a brow. Dante sighed, chest rising and falling, and found himself sitting forward now, with his elbows on the desk.

"Nope," he answered. "What's this surprise you got for me?"

"Oh you'll love it," Lady started, smirking at the white-haired devil-hunter before her. "Ever heard of demons on school buses?"

_What the hell…?_ Dante started piecing everything together. Finally, he looked right at Lady and said, "Your surprise is a _job_?"

Lady only shrugged in response. "Yeah, so?"

"So no. Take it somewhere else. I don't want it."

"You're _taking_ the job," Lady pressed. "Take a look at yourself you fucking slob. You haven't gotten off that goddamn seat in days, why don't you do something with your life before it's over?"

"I've gotten off my seat," Dante argued lazily. "But fine. Tell me about this job. I'll see if I'll want it or—"

"You're taking it." Lady interjected, demand high in her voice. Dante's facial expression didn't change, though his stare remained constant, and after a few moments of silence, Lady finally said, "There's been talk of a demon invasion in a nearby town."

"What gives? I've handled demon invasions before." Dante snorted.

"You didn't let me finish." Lady informed. "Anyway, this problem is bigger than that. The demons have been running amuck, doing whatever they can to shed some blood. And they're done with targeting the mayor. These demons are desperate, disguising in whatever they possibly can, to kill not our generation, but the next."

Dante didn't say anything.

"They're killing kids, Dante. You have to do something."

"Wait, why do _I_ have to do something? What about _you_?" Dante asked, out of pure curiosity. That didn't mean he didn't sound like a dick—he sounded like a huge one at that.

"Didn't think you were that heartless." Lady said with disappointment, head shaking in emphasis.

"That's not what I meant." Dante clarified. Lady only looked at him until he spoke again. "What's the pay?"

Lady put a fisted hand on the desk and then laid it flat. "Pay? There's no pay, Dante. But you leave tomorrow; I got your train ticket already. No refunds on that."

When Lady left for the door, Dante noticed she left something on his desk from when she had her hand on it. He reached over slightly and studied the train ticket.

It's been eight years since he's been to Hillsborough. He left without looking back, he wasn't ever supposed to go back, and he didn't have the heart to.

"Damn it." He grunted.

* * *

><p><em>Hillsborough was easily the most beautiful town Dante had seen—very scenic. Hillsborough was a tourist attraction for many because of its award-winning wine, miniature peninsula, friendly faces, and picturesque buildings and architecture. Regardless of the direction Dante dared to walk, or the attire he chose to wear, all of the people he made eye contact with had a smile placed upon their lips, a welcoming glare in their eyes. <em>

_ The roads lacked in pavement, for they were all composed of ashy red bricks. Cars hardly ever drove on it because the town was small enough to walk place to place and people chose the fresh air anyway. It was laid out so that all the shops (all written as "shoppes" in this town) and schools were in one area, like a big downtown. And all of the residential areas, the houses, circulated around it so it was a ring of houses around the town itself. Commuting to and fro was never a problem for the residents. _

_ The sun never seemed to set in Hillsborough, as the moon and stars shone brightly, lighting up the sky like a candle. Even though it hadn't rained in over 25 years, it was so incredibly green and it never got too hot or cold; there was always a mild breeze brushing through the leaves of the trees and the sunlight washing between them._

_ It was all a very small, yet charming renaissance town that people fell in love with in an instant. _

_ When Dante first went, he was far from impressed. He was a little repulsed by the utopian kindness of the town, that was, until he found himself in the strawberry fields. _

_He was sent to the fields by his own instinct, when he sensed a demon was lurking in the acreage. Getting off his motorcycle, Dante explored the warm berry garden, the setting sun shining softly against his cool, pale skin. His guns in hand, he pulled the trigger and shot the first demon, dead instantly at the kiss of Dante's merciless bullet. Still, even after the decline of this devil, Dante could hear the rustling of leaves and a dropping noise, a few rows of strawberries over. Dante silently snuck over those rows, holding his gun before him. _

_ And there had stood a sun-kissed blonde in a short, white sundress, hands over her ears from the loudness of the bullet. She had thought, with Dante's gun pointing in her general direction that she was about to die, and in silence, she began to say her prayers, her eyes squeezed shut._

God, my Father, I love You above all things, please spare me, please protect me in Your hands, I pray for life, I pray you don't end it here, amen. Amen, amen, amen…_she thought in stillness, watching the gunman in fear. _

_ Dante seemed narrow his eyes and finally pulled the trigger, missing the blonde by just a few centimeters. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Dante had been closer than before and continued to pace nearer. She'd wondered what on earth it was he shot, and when she turned her head and saw a dead demon beside her, she'd jumped back with a "Oh my God!" _

_ "Relax sweetheart," Dante said, picking up the girl's sweater off the dirt ground and handing it to her. After looking at Dante for a few moments she smiled warmly and gently took the sweater. _

_ "Thank you." She whispered, her legs shaking. _

_ "You all right, babe? You're shaking like a madman." _

_ "I'm fine, thanks." The blonde replied, looking past some rows of the strawberries and into the sunset. It was getting late. _

_ Dante studied her a little bit with a smirk on his face, noting this was probably the first time she'd encountered a demon. "One hell of a field here," Dante mentioned, not taking his eyes off the girl. She'd looked back at him, a more confident smile on her face, now exposing her teeth. _

_ "Isn't it? I love it here. I always come here when something's wrong." _

_ "Something's wrong, huh?" _

_ "Not exactly. I was just… sick of studying, I guess." _

_ "Studying?" _

_ "Yeah," the blonde confirmed. "I'm a student." _

_ But she looked so old. Well not _that_old. She was well under ten years younger than Dante, putting her at about twenty-five or twenty-six. "Yeah? What are you studying?" _

_ "Teaching," she answered proudly. Dante smiled. An ambitious one. _

_ "Well I'd get yourself home if I were you. It's getting late." Dante said. The blonde nodded, a smile planted along her lips. She started walking until she felt a strong hand hold her back and she turned to see Dante holding her arm. She'd looked up at him imploringly, a curious expression lighting up her face. Despite the strength of the son of Sparda, he had been so gentle with the girl, knowing just by the looks of her, that she was so fragile. _

_ "Let me take you home. It'll be dark." _

_ Even though it never really got "dark" in the town, and no one would even try pulling something funny, the blonde merely smiled and said, "I'd like that." _

* * *

><p>Dante's dream ended there and his eyes shot open, finding himself lying awake on the train as it rolled on. For a minute he thought it was reality, happening all over again.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2: Ames

**A/N:** Hey guys, just a quick note here. There were some weird typos/mistakes in the last chapter, and I want to apologize for that. There are probably a few here too, because I don't know how this is going to end up looking. But anyway, sorry about that!

_Chapter 2 – Ames_

_ Where has the time gone?_

"Wake up, Reese's cup. You don't want to miss your first day of third grade do you?" Those words, spoken quietly and gently rang throughout Reese Ames' ears first thing in the morning, causing her slumber to cease. She could feel sunlight softly spilling over her pale skin, heating up the coolness that comforted her slumber. As the eight-year-olds eyelids parted, to reveal two glistening blue irises, she was pleased to see her mother leaning over her, a smile along her pink lips. Reese smiled back at her mom, and then sat up in her bed, stretching and yawning before hugging her knees.

"You excited?" her mother asked, covering her daughter's small hand with her own.

"I'm nervous." Reese admitted with a grave look on her face. Her mom only smiled before gingerly caressing her daughter's cheek with her thumb, holding Reese's face with her palm and other four fingers, and then brought herself and her daughter angled correctly to place a kiss upon Reese's forehead.

"You'll do great, sweetie. I know you will. You always do." Her mother reassured, with an imploring look into her daughter's innocent and curious gaze. "Get dressed and ready for breakfast, all right?"

Reese nodded before crawling off her bed and taking her school uniform in hand. Her mother, who was still seated on the edge of Reese's bed, watched her daughter with affectionate eyes, thinking back to the day Reese was born to the day she started school for the first time, crying to be by her mom's side. Now she was eight years old and dressing herself, and heading into her classroom without looking back.

Smiling at her daughter for the last time, Marcella Ames walked out of Reese's room and closed the door behind her, but pausing before taking any further steps. Marcella had absolutely loathed being like others and therefore had a problem with saying things that she would consider generic or cliché, but hell. Her little baby was growing up.

Phoebe and Reese have been closely acquainted for as long as they can recall. One of Reese's most earliest and vivid memories were of the day Phoebe moved in the vacant house three dwelling's to the right of Reese's residence. Reese remembered barely being able to speak, uttering that broken English adults found so cute, and taking Phoebe's hand to show her the swing-set near their houses. Now that most of the kids on their street—Sherwood Avenue—were grown and in either high school or middle school, the swing-set belonged to mostly Reese and Phoebe, and the two became best of friends that very day they swung on the swings together, laughing and giggling under a setting sun.

Reese knew Marcella wasn't fond of Phoebe's father—_Dr._ Gallagher—but she opted not to stand in front of such a sweet and innocent friendship, and allowed the two young girls to familiarize with one another between sleepovers and visits around town… as long as Marcella didn't have to step in Phoebe's home, she was content with their relationship. As far as Mrs. Gallagher went, Marcella never spoke to her, other than waving and the casual "Hey, what's up?" every now and then. There was a mutual respect between the two, though neither attempted taking it to any higher levels, almost…afraid to. At least, on Marcella's part she seemed fearful.

Despite the rocky relationship between Marcella Ames and the Gallagher parents, they had worked a deal that Marcella drove the girls to and from school during the colder seasons, because Marcella was always on the way to their school; she was the fifth grade English teacher.

Phoebe and Reese had clung onto each other such as twins do, and were most anxious about losing each other to other people throughout the course of their third-grade year. However, when they discovered they were in the same Math, English, and Science classes, they were relaxed and relieved by the end of the day. They had both phoned their parents and confirmed with them that they would be walking home together, and as they walked side by side on Olde Brookewood Road, books in hand, uniforms on backs, they were discussing what they so far liked and disliked about their third grade year at St. Marin's Academy.

"I like Mrs. Kentfield. She seemed nice, right?"

"Yeah, I think Mrs. Kentfield seemed okay," Reese agreed, the Religion teacher's face flashing in the back of her mind. "Mr. Leandro was my favorite though."

Phoebe giggled. "Yeah, he was funny. Didn't you think the bus driver was weird, though?"

Reese looked at her friend and nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. I'm glad we didn't take the bus. It made me feel… weird." Reese used _weird_ for lack of a better word, although it made her feel _uncomfortable_ more than anything.

The two decided to take the bus to school, to get a good feel of it. Marcella had offered the girls to drive them home; however they declined her offer, admitting to have wanted to spend as much time as they could outdoors before it got chilly.

Phoebe and Reese were walking in the middle of the road, like they normally did. Most people walked in the road since people hardly ever drove their cars. That way, the Main Street and the neighboring ways—such as Olde Brookewood—were always busy and impossible to commit crime in without being noticed. The big downtown Hillsborough was made it all too hard to be dangerous and undesirable. It made raising children and comfortable living exceptionally easy and, although Marcella always dreamed of leaving at one point, she'd stayed for the sole purpose of her daughter.

"Hey look, there's the bus now." Phoebe pointed out, looking straight ahead. It was going a lot faster than it should have been, considering the legal speed limit and well, the numerous people walking on the road.

"Shouldn't it be stopping…?"

Just then, both Phoebe and Reese were thrown onto the side of the road by what seemed like merely an arm, and hit the ground with a heavy thud, their books flying out of their arms. Breathlessly, they watched a man in a long, red coat smirk at the speeding and raving bus, holding a dark gun forward and pulling the trigger, shooting the tires of the bus and stopping it altogether. The sound of the gunshot was extreme compared to the initial stillness of the town, and even compared to the sound of the speeding bus, it sounded completely amplified. This made both Reese and Phoebe cover their ears and squeeze their eyes shut. At the sound of human screams and another gunshot, the two opened their eyes and saw the man now with his guns down, and staring at what looked to have been a human before they closed their eyes, and now that they'd opened them again, it looked a monster of some sort.

Phoebe screamed the loudest, goddamn near raping Reese's eardrums, she found herself with her hands over her ears again, staring at Phoebe. When she blinked, she opened her eyes and saw Phoebe now standing, even though her legs were trembling, and a large hand now offered to Reese. Unplugging her ears, Reese laid her tiny hand in the gloved one and stood up wobbling, and slowly regaining her balance.

"You should start walking on the sidewalk," was all she heard before the red-coated man disappeared.

* * *

><p><em>"Thanks for the ride," the blonde said, getting off the motorcycle. <em>

_ "It was my pleasure," Dante replied, smirking her way. The blonde blushed in the soft moonlight, gently spilling over the two and adding color to her fair locks. Dante heard the clicking over her high heels on the maroon bricks echoing in the silence of the night, but when they stopped, Dante refrained from starting up the motorcycle. He watched her as she turned around, and tilted her head Dante's way. _

_ "What's your name?" _

_ "My name is Dante." He replied, before leaving. _

_ Dante got a vibe from the girl that separated her from the others. The way she smiled so warmly at him almost relaxed him, and he could feel the pumping heart in his chest begin to slow. The way her fingertips pressed onto him on his motorcycle made him feel like she was weak and had to protect her, make her feel safe. The way she looked at him so curiously with her bluish-violet eyes made his heart race like he had to do or say the right thing. The way her soft voice sounded made him feel at peace for a moment; he didn't care if he was late or had to be somewhere. And so, with these feelings left inside him, he found himself angry for not asking the girl's name. _

_ He was lucky though, when he found himself walking by the Hillsborough Christian Fellowship just outside Mission Avenue, where the university was, and saw a familiar fair-haired young woman exiting the doors of the church. She was yet in another sundress, more colorful and lively this time, and had some of her hair pulled up and let down. Very presentable church attire. _

_ Instantly, the woman recognized Dante and as the two walked closer together, she warmed him with a kind grin. "Dante!" _

_ "Hey there. You getting out of church?" _

_ "Yeah," she answered, looking at the church and then back at Dante, a smile still on her face. _

_ "You know, you never told me what your name was." Dante mentioned. _

_ "I didn't?" She asked. "I swear I did." _

_ "Babe, if you did, it'd be running through my head all day." _

_ Talk about blatant flirting. Still, Dante appealed to the girl. Had this been any guy, she would have politely declined and rejected their harsh flirting techniques and walked away. She had little to no experience, because she was always so bound in her studies. But Dante, Dante was different to her, and he made her forget about her grades for a second. He made her _feel_ different. He was so genuinely nice to her when he first met her in the field. She recalled the way her heart pounded against her chest when Dante held up that gun and she thought he was going to kill her, and how her heart pranced around within her when he left her at her doorstep. And how fast it was beating at the very moment. He had a way with words and just by the look in his eye, she could feel that he cared more about her than most strangers should. She admired his gunmanship and adored the quality of his voice, because every time she heard it, she had felt…protected. _

_ The good vibes, and thoughtless judgments made the girl's heart jump with risk, and she had finally spilled out her name and revealed Dante's most recent mystery. "Marcella." She said. _

_ Marcella._

_ Marcella. _

_ He loved it, the way it sounded, the way it rolled off her tongue so fluently. _

_ Marcella._

_ "Well Marcella," he said, testing the name out a bit himself. "You're not busy are you?" _

_ "Well, I was going to go over my notes, but…it can wait." _

_ "Come with me then," Dante said, offering her a hand. "I'm taking you out to lunch." _


	3. Chapter 3: Instant Friendship

_Chapter 3—Instant Friendship_

_After many days of a friendship that blossomed beautifully, the fun-loving and persuasive and even dangerous nature in which Dante inherited harmonized very nicely with Marcella's curious although assuring personality thus toughening the bond between the two. Dante found himself walking past the university where Marcella was studying, for literally no reason at all, other than the obvious fact that he longed to see her. Remarkably, Marcella didn't quite notice Dante's appearances, and she had longed to see him also; was it not absurd to neither of them if he was always on his mind, and she was always on his? Such a desperate relationship grew between the two. Marcella often found herself thinking of Dante, wondering if he was thinking of her. Dante woke up each morning, contemplating whether or not he would be able to see the young blonde again. The two had gone mad for each other, without quite realizing it. Marcella, for one, realized she was no longer praying for goodness and health; instead, she'd asked her Lord if she would have a chance to see Dante once again. She no longer cared about living a long healthy life. She did not wish to live a thousand years any longer; if she could have a night with Dante. _

_ The two, however, could not admit that they had such a special bond and respect for one other—had this been the case, one of the two would have been brave enough to knock at the other's door. They both feared that the feelings that existed between the two were mere illusion from either side, that they were not returned. Especially Dante, in this case. He was terrified of Marcella. No one on earth had made him feel this way. He was, of course, experienced physically with women. Emotionally, however, he remained adolescent, and could not imagine the pain he would endure if Marcella laughed at him if he revealed his true feelings to her. The heartbreak, the agony. It would be, ultimately, too much, even for the son of Sparda. _

_ The two, didn't know it quite yet, but they were very much in love with each other. _

_ Marcella was the first to realize this, although months later, and after thinking in depth about what should be done at the present moment, if she should have been to approach him or not, she found herself with a heart-wrenching feeling that traveled even to her stomach and added an unbearable heaviness. It was that point where she realized, even physically, something was wrong. And when all things fell apart, where all hope was gone, there was one place to go: the strawberry fields. _

Marcella stood in the doorway, listening intently to Mrs. Gallagher's angry ramble regarding the events of the evening where Reese and Phoebe had to witness demons and any sort of trouble at all. Even though Mrs. Gallagher was freaking, frantic, angry at Marcella, Marcella had remained calm, feeling the motherly anxiety and fear for Reese just as Mrs. Gallagher did Phoebe. Marcella nodded with the occasional "I know" and "right", respecting Mrs. Gallagher to the best of her ability; for one thing, Mrs. Gallagher wasn't the type of mom you would mess with, as she was a lawyer, for another Mrs. Gallagher was older than Marcella.

And Marcella had the ability to completely wreck Mrs. Gallagher's marriage with her husband if any sort of secrets came out.

Best bet for Marcella: be cagey, and shut up. It's worked her whole life, and it shouldn't fail on her now.

"I really do apologize, Julie. Phoebe had told me you'd approved them walking home and the poor girls just wanted to walk home and enjoy the weather. They had no idea they would be caught in such a predicament. Moreover, stuff like this hardly ever happens in this town." Marcella apologized convincingly. Julie Gallagher sighed and her facial expression softened.

"I know, Marcella, I'm sorry for taking out my anger on you. It's not your fault, not the girls'. I'm just afraid you know…"

"Afraid?"

"Of having to relocate. This town has been so good to us. No crime, middle class, good to raise children. I never want to leave, it's like paradise."

Marcella smiled warmly at Mrs. Gallagher, finding admiration for the mother in her. "Julie, it won't happen. I promise you it won't. This town has been untouchable all its years, and I've lived here my whole life, not a single soul has been taken here. I assure you won't have to move. I'm sorry though. For now on, I'll be driving the girls to and from school."

"You're right Marcella. You're a good woman. Reese is lucky to have a strong mom like you."

With that, Mrs. Gallagher left with a sincere and respectful smile. It depressed Marcella a little. She'd been a slave of Mrs. Gallagher's husband since they moved in, and Julie Gallagher had no idea of this. When Marcella knew Julie respected her, she realized her self-respect began to deteriorate.

Later that night, Dr. Gallagher had called Marcella over, obviously leaving Marcella too anxious tend to Reese's needs. That being said, when Reese left for the playground, she bothered not to get Marcella's consent; she would have said "do what you want" anyway. As Reese walked, beneath the afternoon sun, hands in her pockets, she stared down, kicking a rock as she paced. She couldn't help but wonder why her mom always got so tense around Phoebe's dad. She knew there was something peculiar about the relationship between the two, as in something had been terribly wrong, or at least bad enough for her to not be able to tell Reese. It damn near killed Reese. She didn't respect anyone as much as she respected her mom, they were best of friends, telling each other everything. Why was Marcella suddenly keeping secrets from her? If there was something wrong, then she should at least tell Reese, maybe the two could have worked it out together. Reese just hated it, not being able to say anything to comfort her mom when anxiety had shaken her so badly. That was the part that really killed her, the helplessness; not being able to help the woman that brought her into the world. She at least owed Marcella moral support, emotional stability. Reese found herself thinking of her mom's usual soft and happy face transform into a scared and helpless face in the presence of Dr. Gallagher. What the hell even happened between the two?

Alas, Reese's thoughts were interrupted when she kicked the rock too far and too high, and it pecked the shins of a man walking ahead of her. It seemed not to have affected him, and he didn't speak when Reese apologized under her breath, but the two seemed familiar to each other and Reese had realized this was the same guy who pushed her out of the bus' direction earlier that afternoon. The man, however, was the first to mention this.

"Hey, you're that kid I saw earlier."

Saw, not saved? Reese wondered why he didn't mention that he completely _saved_ her life. "You _rescued _me," she corrected. "And I didn't thank you."

"You can say it now if you need to."

"Thanks."

There was a moment of silence between the two before Reese continued to walk, realizing the man probably wouldn't say much more. She was caught off guard, however, after she past the man, that he spoke.

"Why the long face, kid?"

Reese had turned around, looking up at the man vulnerably. Too vulnerable to run away and claim her mother told her not to talk to strangers. Thing was, though, Reese didn't want to. Reese, for some reason, felt comfortable with this man. Most likely because he'd saved her life, but there was something about him, the way he looked at her, the way he talked and the way he smelled, that made her feel like he was a friend to her. Someone she should care for.

"It's a long story," Reese responded as she stared at her feet, shuffling them a little. The man smiled at the kid, taking a few steps toward her. His kind stare was not the usual look he paid to most young children but he found her so damn cute, with her long, very-pale blonde hair that was practically past her butt and her blue eyes.

"I got time."

Reese sighed and looked up at the man, taking a good look of the man's beautiful face structure, blue eyes and pale hair. He was so handsome, although Reese wasn't attracted to him, naturally, being only eight years old.

"It's my mom," she sighed again, speaking quietly. The man only stared, waiting for her to continue. "We're supposed to be best friends. Every time I ask her who her best friend is, she says it's me. But she's always hiding things from me."

"What kind of things?"

"Well, that's the thing. I don't know. She usually tells me everything except for about Dr. Gallagher, my best friend's dad. Something weird happened with them and I just, I wanna know. I wanna be able to help. Maybe then she wouldn't lock herself in her room and cry so much, she wouldn't ignore me every time he came around… it's just that he's so nice to me, but if he's mean to my mommy then I can't be friends with Phoebe because that wouldn't be fair to my mom. And I love Phoebe but… my mom comes first. She puts me first for everything but I can't be mean to her and put her last, it's not nice."

"You know what you should do, kid?"

"Can you not call me kid? I hate when people do that."

"What's your name then, kid—…uh, friend, I mean. What's your name?"

"I'm Reese."

"What you should do, Reese, is—"

"Wait! What's your name?"

"I'm Dante, Reese. Can I talk now?"

"Dante, Dante…" Reese said under her breath. "Yeah, you can talk."

"Reese, you should trust your mom. If she says she's your best friend, then she doesn't want to see you hurt. Maybe she's keeping a secret so that you don't overburden yourself. Maybe she wants you to be friends with Phoebe. She isn't hiding things from you, not to hurt you. She's hiding things because she would rather take the hit for whatever it is, rather than see you fall for it."

Reese thought for a moment, now eye level with Dante because he'd crouched in front of her. She didn't say much, since all she could register doing is contemplating what he just said. He was right. Her mom would never hurt her. She was taking the toll for the secret, because she didn't want to see Reese in pain. Why didn't Reese think of that? Before Reese could say anything, Dante smiled, patting her back, and then began walking.

"Wait!" Reese called, running after him. He turned around, watching her run closer before he crouched to see her eye-to-eye. Catching Dante off guard, he felt Reese's little arms wrap around his neck and she embraced him, neither of the two knowing why. Dante held the little girl back, finding some accomplishment in himself that he'd comforted her in her time of need, and he already liked her than he liked most children of her age. He found them to be mostly annoying and over-playful, but Reese was so mature and caring, especially toward her mother, that Dante really found it in himself to respect the girl.

Once the two pulled away, Reese looked at him and said, "You always leave before I can say anything."

She'd really hoped to see him again.


	4. Chapter 4: Ring Them Bells

Chapter 4—_Ring Them Bells_

Marcella watched in suppressed horror as Martin Gallagher had her pinned against the door, that devilish gleam in his eye as he inched closer and closer to her. She could feel her cheeks flush in nervousness and embarrassment, and although this had happened to her about a million times before, there wasn't a single time that she didn't make an attempt to keep him away. Marcella laid her hand over Martin's chest, pushing him away. It was most evident as she turned her head to the other side, avoiding all eye contact.

"Don't be like that, Marcie." He whispered in her eye, planting kisses along her cheek. She gulped.

"Don't call me that."

Martin ignored her and made a low noise from the back of his throat as he turned her head, more violently than she'd anticipated, and began to kiss her throat. She did not tense at the feel of a hand cupping her breast, but she felt a great deal of misery inside her as she already knew where this was going. A tear slid down her cheek and she whimpered slightly, when Martin's hands reached for more mischievous places.

"Stop crying." He commanded.

She didn't.

"Stop. Crying." His demand became a growl and he pushed her more aggressively up against the wall.

"Stop it," Marcella pleaded, a little helplessly. Martin could hear it in her voice, the desperation, but like hell he cared. Martin only grunted and forced her again into the wall, with an evident harshness and demand. He'd begin to act like an animal and there was little to no human nature in him when he said:

"Shut up or I'll fire you, damn it."

Marcella was helpless, and it was Martin's lust that refrain him from showing any form of compassion. Marcella was lost in an agonizing reality and felt numb when Martin forced himself into her; all she could think of was the day all of this started. The rainy evening she had her first job interview; she had no hope other than this job, with her newborn, Reese. It was a desperate time. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Martin had a corrupted nature from the start; it wasn't her fault that the only way she would get the teaching job would be to sleep with him. If she had a choice, events such as the like would have never occurred, but she had no control over such determinations. She wound up getting the job, not just as a teacher, but as Martin's personal slave. Marcella felt guilty, disrespectful toward Julie and Phoebe but there wasn't much she could do. She wished she had a way of warning Julie and Phoebe about their beloved Martin's true nature, his colors, but what could she have done without losing herself? Without hurting their family? She was caught in this way; she wanted to help them, but if she did, she would be in trouble. If she didn't, she was still in trouble.

All Marcella wanted was someone to love her, to care about her. Someone that wanted her for more than just her body; she wanted _him_ back, their romance. But it could never be restored. The only existent romance in her life was with her one love, Reese, and she had been content with so long, never longing, never asking of anymore from anyone else in the world. But she had begun to feel lonely, especially during times like these, where she was taken of such awful advantage. She wanted affection, not aggression. And so when she lay in bed that night, sore from the forced intercourse, she kept thinking of what it would be like to marry and love, to complete the life of herself and her daughter; a husband, and son perhaps, life in the outskirts of Hillsborough and near the strawberry fields—what more could her heart desire? She'd fallen asleep, dreaming of what she wished she could turn back to, what could happen again…

* * *

><p><em>Marcella had waited for what felt like an eternity. She'd returned the field, over and over, in hopes of meeting the one that had saved her and in hopes of restoring her, what seemed to have been emptiness, that lingered within her. She'd missed him, Dante, and his memory followed her round until she finally left the fields, deciding that maybe, it was possible that he upped and left. She'd remembered him telling her, over lunch, that he wasn't fond of the town and there was little to nothing in specific about it that had truly appealed to him. She'd been not upset at <em>him_ but at, oddly, at _herself_ for not giving him a reason to stay. It'd been strange to her. She'd never bothered to change for certain people, she'd been happy with who she was; it was all part of her values, her moral code. And then comes along this man, which she barely knew, and she found herself kicking herself for not being better; for not having a luring charm, or not being so endlessly boring as he had been so interesting and fascinating. And she pondered what type of woman Dante had been into in the first place. She'd began to question her sexual appearance and even if she'd maintained her abstinence and remained chaste, if she needed to whore herself around to get Dante to turn her direction at all, so be it. _

_ But it was much too late; at least, she thought so._

_ She was walking slowly, careful to not trip in her higher-than-usual heels and crossed her arms along her bosom, letting her loose bangs hang over her eyes as her fishtail braid hung over her left shoulder. She was caught off guard when she heard a family voice; deep, husky… soothing to her, almost. _

_ "What's the matter, babe? Am I looking to good for you?" _

_ "Huh?" Marcella's head shot up to reveal a familiar demon-hunter, dressed in a deep crimson. "D-Dante…" she said in realization, quietly. _

_ Dante stepped closer, a firm grin placed upon his lips. It'd faded when he noticed the perplexed expression that melted along Marcella's arch-like brows, and brightly blushed lips. _

_ "You okay?" _

_ "Huh? Yeah I just uh…" _

_ "You just…" Dante craned his neck slightly, trying to look in Marcella's eyes. She looked down and then back up at Dante, a nervous smile faintly appearing and then disappearing along her lips. _

_ "I just… I thought you left." _

_ "Leave? Why would I leave without asking for a follow-up date?"Dante grinned. Marcella felt her heart pounding in her chest, screaming and rejoicing in happiness as she merely stared at Dante, her neck angled upward, staring into Dante's eyes with false intent. Dante smiled a little at the captivating violet shade of Marcella's eyes._

_ "You have damn nice eyes, babe." He mentioned, still staring into them. Marcella felt a blush spread across her cheeks and she wanted to hide, she wanted to be confident and reason enough for Dante to never leave Hillsborough, and she looked down at her gladiator-like sandals, unsure of what to do or say. Talk about nervous. _

_ "That braid isn't all that bad either," Dante complimented for a second time, trying to get Marcella to look at him. She touched the braid with her fingertips and looked up, a brief smile on her face, still anxious about what to do. She hated the idea of Dante just flirting with her to get in her pants, even though she knew it was probably true. It made her uncomfortable for her to be so nervous and interested in a single guy and know that he probably didn't give half a damn about her, even if he'd been asking for a follow-up date. From what she knew, he would keep on asking for follow-up dates, just until he'd get inside. Then that would be it, he would up and leave. She knew it, but she wanted to pretend he was different, she found herself wishing,_ _even _praying_ that Dante's nature had been different._

_ "Th-thanks." _

_ "What's with you? You weren't this nervous last time I saw you."_

_ "I know, I just—"_

_ Dante ceased her words with his hand in front of her, a "stop" sort of gesture, and he was thankful to have her respond accordingly._

_ "You can explain when I take you out tonight." _

* * *

><p>The next few days passed in tranquility for Reese. Although she had no idea as to what her mother was up to as of late, she had cheered, and Reese's conscience was often reminding her of what that man who'd saved her life told her: to trust her mother. Reese did trust her mother, obviously, but until this man had pointed it out, she didn't realize she trusted her so much. Reese could have given Marcella a million dollars, or her own life and there would be an unspoken assurance that nothing was to be quarreled with in the hands of Marcella; that Reese and all she had to offer would be safe. Strangely, however, Reese trusted the man too, and it had been a while since she'd seen him. She didn't wish to, nor did she hope not to; it was simply that she'd <em>expected<em> running into the man even though she didn't for quite some time.

Reese had forgotten his name by the Friday following that week, when she would encounter him again. After school, Marcella had prepared to have her father over for dinner, and so she was unable to join her daughter when she went to church. Reese spent a lot of time in church, half because she was typically bored, and half because she'd actually had faith in God, unlike most of the kids her age, who, believed in God, but only because they were forced to, because their parents and everyone around them believed in God. Not because they thought about God the same way Reese did.

The hours passing had gone in peace, just as Reese expected and just as most worship services should be. When the pastor left was when things changed.

Reese was sitting very close to the altar, her legs swinging back and forth as her heart beat steadily, her hands folded together, her head was tilted down and she closed her eyes. When the church's pastor, Lorenzo, called for Reese, she could feel her long, pale blonde braid whip to the side when she turned.

"I'm leaving, Reese. Are you okay on your own?"

"I'm fine Pastor Lorenzo, thank you. Do you know what time it is? I should be home at eight."

"It's six-thirty right now. David will be coming in soon, so you won't be alone too long. Is that okay?"

"That's fine, thanks."

"Good-bye then, Reese. God bless."

"May God be with you, Pastor Lorenzo."

Reese had resumed to her prayers, for what seemed to be just five minutes before she heard strange noises coming from the top floor of the church. The church was more of a cathedral, the beauty and architecture of the building close to impossible to describe. The intricate design of the building, the height and captivating beauty; too much for words is all that can be said about the cathedral. It was tall, and it alarmed Reese when she heard slamming and dropping noises, which seemed to have come from the bell tower.

Looking up in her interest, Reese left the benches and sermon area, and began to walk up the stoned spiral staircase; the click of her flat shoes echoing as they stepped upon the cold, grey surface.

"Hello?" she called, still walking up the stairs. No answer. "Hello?" she called again. She continued to walk up the stairs, passing different levels of the cathedral, and she'd been distracted by more sounds here and there, but continued walking for her destination, the bell tower, where most of these noises had been coming from.

One other noise had been from outside the church, where Reese dismissed it: a motorcycle halting to a stop, very closely to the church. This was because meanwhile, Dante Sparda had seen strange activity, what he sensed was demonic, from the bells of the nearby cathedral he passed. Dante hadn't an idea that Reese was in the church, otherwise he would have made a run for it. Wearily, however, and with skillful caution, he'd held onto his trusty guns, Ebony and Ivory, and began walking up the spiral staircase of the picturesque place of worship. In addition to Reese, Dante heard strange crashing and clanking noising emerging from the very height of the artistic building, and it was his instinct that lead his feet closer up to the noise. The tiny clicks of Reese's feet along the stone staircase echoed behind her, but not too far, at least not far enough to reach Dante, whose hearing was superb anyway.

After a few levels passing, there'd been a corridor where the stairs would continue, but also where it intersected a separate hall. As Reese passed, with care, naturally, she'd felt as if something had been moving behind her, and she turned around in surprise. Again, she could sense a moving being behind her, causing her to turn her initial direction, and with much more caution, and a fair amount of newly arisen fear, she continued walking up the staircase, holding on the railing with much more might and protection than before.

Finally, Reese found herself entered into the circular room, wherein the middle of it, had been the bell with a hollow bottom. If she'd fallen, she'd have died, so she kept a firm clutch on the steel railing.

"I-is anyone up here…?" she said loudly, oblivious to her own echo, slithering down and around the church. In response to the question, the large bell that sat atop two smaller ones was rung, vibrating and startling Reese to her feet. She covered her ears, and shut her eyes, but it was no help. She could hardly hear anymore and once she was secure that the bell was finished articulating—this wasn't until minutes later—she uncovered her ears, stood up, and called out again.

"Who's there?" she couldn't hear herself yelling, for Chrissake, she thought she was deaf at this point. She thought she'd never get her hearing back and she found herself with tears in her eyes. She didn't have time to let the first tear drop, when she was abruptly thrown into the railing. She gasped, her eyes wide open, but before she could even see anything, she felt a large claw-like grasper squeezing her neck and picking her up, holding her against the wall. She coughed and threw her hands to the claws, failing to break lose. Her legs were kicking quickly and fiercely when she was lifted off the ground, but her made attempts of harm were unsuccessful, though her courage was more productive.

She could see, through her little dark-blue eyes, that the monster, what seemed to have been an olive-colored monster, or demon, with no nose, but two yellow eyes and a disgustingly sharp tongue and teeth. This monster had been uttering something, though she'd lost her hearing, and now, her consciousness.

"In you…is the blood of—"

The demon was interrupted at the sound of a low, angry voice emerging from behind it. For when he turned, he saw a man dressed in a red trench-coat, holding out two guns. "Leave her," Dante grunted.

The demon sniffed and then grinned menacingly, devilish thoughts circulating within. He dropped Reese, who landed on her side and regained no consciousness, and left her there, lying, as he inched closer to the son of Sparda.

"Say your prayers," Dante smirked. The demon had no time to react. He was plagued by the negativity of fate; he'd been shot, stabbed, and killed on the spot. No fight, no time to react. Death swarmed him and there was nothing left of that demon after Dante threw him off the bell tower.

He walked closer to Reese, watching her with genuine care, wondering whether or not she would wake up. With sensitivity, he touched the wound that embraced her neck, and the blood on her temple, and gingerly stroked the side of her little face, recognizing now that this was the same little girl with the big smile, the one that threw her arms around him more than a week ago. Now she was almost lifeless in his hands and he felt his heart sink, feeling sorrow.

His fingers pressed against the right side of her neck, very gently of course, and rejoiced silently when he felt a slow pulse. He carried her in his arms, taking her down the steps. She did not wake, and lie with no consciousness, to Dante's dismay. He searched for any of her belongings in the cathedral, and found her backpack, which he realized, may have had her address to take her home. Inside, was a lunchbox, and a notebook. All the info that the lunchbox had was:

Reese Weatherfield Ames  
>Grade 3<p>

The "Weatherfield" part was crossed out, however. In regards to an address or phone number, nothing was found. Then, Dante opened her notebook.

Reese W. Ames  
>Grade 3<br>English Language Arts

[return to 1963 Marinwood Avenue if lost]

Perfect.

* * *

><p>Marcella Ames carried two big, brown paper bags, filled with vegetables and breads and broths in her arms. Almost oblivious to the world, Marcella precisely inserted the keys into her doorknob, before noticing Reese lying on the porch bench. Marcella felt her jaw drop slightly and completely disregarded her door, and she quickly paced over to her unconscious daughter, dropping her bags in front of her. She turned her little girl and saw that whatever wounds may have inhabited her body had been covered and taken care of, which made her wonder by whom. She found a note in Reese's tiny hands. Written in a neat cursive it said this:<p>

"I've taken care of whatever damages were done.  
>Your daughter should be fine as long as she gets her rest.<p>

P.S., It's not your fault this happened,  
>the pastor left her alone in the church.<br>But the city has been getting more dangerous recently.  
>Keep an eye on her."<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Well that was a royal pain in the ass to write… I hope you guys enjoyed it! I'll try not to make the next one so damn long. Leave feedback if you'd like! =)


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